Bancroft - Peaky Blinders Reverse Harem x Reader

Chapter 22

I work away at the food garden, harvesting the ready vegetables and fertilising the plants. It helps to clear my mind, relaxes me. The leaves of the plants are rough beneath my fingers.

Tommy hasn't said a word to me since the day on the lake. As far as I know, he comes home long after I've gone to bed, and leaves long before I wake up. I get the feeling he's avoiding me.

And to think, when I woke up to a vase full of fresh buttercups, I thought it might have been him leaving things on my bedside. More likely it's John or Michael's idea of a joke.

Stupid, I tell myself. Stupid for thinking anything might have changed between us. For thinking he might feel anything for me.

He's made it obvious he doesn't care.

Good. Now I don't have to put up with his remarks or taunts, I'll be a far happier person, I'm sure.

Or at least, I would be if I wasn't so worked up.

I feel like a dog in heat. I'd die before admitting it, but each night I wonder, even hope, that John might come into my bedroom like he did my first night here. Or Michael might offer to fuck me until my headache clears. Or Arthur might bring his mouth to my chest again.

"Bancroft."

I flinch, dropping the transplanter as John cuts through my reverie.

"Coming," I say quickly.

I brush the dirt from my gloves and peel them off my hands, hoping John won't notice the flush in my cheeks.

"We're off out," he says. "Big job's come up."

My heart sinks. "You won't be home for dinner?"

"Leave some in the oven for us, yeah?" He winks.

I nod, trying to hide my disappointment. "Good luck."

He hesitates before leaving. "And, er, I spoke to Tommy on the phone, and he said you're not to leave the house or answer the door."

I'm so angry my hands shake. "Does he think I'm twelve years old?"

John shrugs apologetically.

"Well, you can tell Tommy I'll do what I please, and if he has a problem with that I'll try to drown him again. He'll know what I mean."

John ducks his head. "Never change, Bancroft," he says with a smirk.

I return to my gardening, angrily snipping more than I should with the pruning shears. By the time I've got all my anger out, there's barely any leaves left on the strawberry plants, and I have to stop myself for the day. I sigh, and resign myself to a cold bath.

I'm wrapping myself in a towel afterwards, when I hear the front door click open below. I freeze. Blood rushes through my head — an audible woosh with each beat of my heart. I'm back in the London house, and the men are here, and I'm hiding in the closet.

I take the pistol from the sink — I'm never without one now — and load a bullet into the chamber. My breath comes in heavy as I silently open the door, and walk across the landing.

Heavy footsteps come up the stairs. Control your breathing, Tommy taught me. I do as he asked, and take aim.

"Fuck!" I exclaim, dropping my arm and releasing a shaky sigh. "Arthur, what are you doing?"

Surprised, he walks slowly to where I stand. "What's going on?" He asks.

"I thought... I..." But I can't get the words out. I slam the pistol onto the corner table, and place my head in my hands.